


liquor lips (steal me with a kiss)

by yoongoogles



Series: Kiss Kiss Fall in Love! [4]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Come Shot, Facials, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Oops, Shameless Smut, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, i literally tried to write this innocently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoongoogles/pseuds/yoongoogles
Summary: Mingi usually controls himself around San pretty well but it's something about watching him put on lipstick that really does him in, and he can't help himself this time.
Relationships: Choi San/Song Mingi
Series: Kiss Kiss Fall in Love! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809547
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	liquor lips (steal me with a kiss)

**Author's Note:**

> welcome back to the kiss kiss series! i am well aware this may be a bit too filthy for it but who fucking cares :D i miss writing for this series, i always have so much fun with the pieces. 
> 
> inspired by my intense romantic feelings for song mingi and my obsession with san putting on his lipstick in the black cat performances. he's insane for that.
> 
> if you're new here and you like first kisses that definitely aren't just first kisses, stick around <3
> 
> title from marina & the diamonds

Mingi’s tongue runs over his dry, cracked lips as he watches San apply his lipstick in the vanity. It’s blood red, the kind that makes it look like San bit his own lip open and rubbed them together so it blends into the flesh. Mingi really loves that color. 

San either doesn’t notice him watching or doesn’t mind it because he lines the edges carefully, so focused in the mirror that his back bends obscenely as he leans forward. Mingi has a perfect view of his ass, jetblack joggers that fit tighter than a glove. His palms itch to touch but he holds himself back; even though they’re alone, even though San seems to melt every single time Mingi so much as skims his hand, Mingi is hesitant to let himself have what he wants. 

He should be used to this kind of thing. The members are all beautiful, show-stopping in one way or another, and he appreciates getting to see them both in and out of their personas. Seonghwa wearing his glasses and Hongjoong’s bed head and Jongho’s sleepy, tight eyes are some of his favorite things to see. 

But San. There’s something to be said about Choi San. In any state. No rhyme or reason to his beauty.

And these are the moments Mingi loves the most. Their hotel room has mood lighting, turned almost all the way down to imitate the setting of the stage so San gets this as close to the performance as possible. He’s practicing how to smear the lipstick, which direction to go and how to angle it so it’s just messy enough to be sexy. Mingi could think of a better way than San’s own finger dragging down his lip. He’s in sweatpants and an old team t-shirt with half dried, frizzy hair, and it’s got to be the sexiest he’s ever seen San - freshly showered and just this side of exhausted, but so dedicated to nailing his production. 

And Mingi is running out of resistance. 

He wonders if San would let him take control for once.

If it were up to Mingi, he’d let San finish putting on his lipstick while Mingi presses against him from behind, allowing his hands to roam across a tight stomach and sharp hips. He’d nose at San’s ear until he leaned back to rest against Mingi’s chest and leave his pretty neck open to mark up, stain the skin with purple bruises until San begs for him to touch elsewhere.

Mingi watches San tip forward into the mirror until he can’t see his face anymore, just wide shoulders narrowing into a tiny waist. The ends of his shirt are frayed and ride up with the movement, showcasing his lower back. He has to physically bite back a groan. 

“Hey, could you pass me a wipe?” San leans back and pouts at his reflection, patting the harsh lines to smooth them out around his cupid’s bow, eyebrows cinched together like he’s frustrated. There’s a long red streak where San had dipped into the wet material and brushed it slowly down to his chin. God, what Mingi’d give to trace the path with his tongue.

San meets his eyes in the mirror and raises a single eyebrow, which, oh shit, San asked him to get him something-

“Yeah, sorry.” Mingi has no idea where the damn wipes are. He sits up to look around the couch, finds nothing but their hoodies and a pair of his headphones. “Uh…”

San sighs and clicks his tongue at him, “They’re next to the nightstand.” He’s not wearing any other makeup, but somehow, that makes the whole thing so much worse. San’s looking at him with that fucked up lipstick and it’s tired but  _ fond.  _

“Mhm. Nightstand.” Mingi hopes his legs don’t wobble noticeably on the way there. He finds the wipes open on San’s bed and thinks about it for a second - if San’s not happy with what he looks like right now, he’ll need more than one of these.

He brings the entire package with him. 

“Oh, thanks! I probably need more than one.” Mingi sets the wipes down next to three tubes of lipstick, all various shades of bright and dark red. The one San is wearing is glossy and has bits of glitter in it that wink under the warm lighting of the vanity. It’s San’s favorite out of the three.

“Are you going to try another color?”

“Should I?” 

_ Just do it. Just, casually lean over him. Pretend you’re picking out a color.  _

Mingi steadies his heartbeat, butterfly wings flapping incessantly in his chest, and goes for it. He drapes his body weight over San’s back and hums as though he’s inspecting his options, like he’s putting any real effort into helping him choose the perfect variation of the same damn color. 

Mingi likes the dark one. But, he isn’t opposed to the one called Lady Killer, either. It’s in a luxurious looking gold and red tube and it’s as bright as neon. It won’t fit with the vibe, but it may actually give Mingi a heart attack, so he rests his chin atop San’s damp hair and points to it.

“That one.”

“Agh, that one doesn’t work that well. The aesthetic is dark, you know?” San carefully folds the wet tissue around his finger tips so it doesn’t smear against his skin more as he wipes the lipstick away. Mingi studies his reflection in the mirror, too preoccupied with properly cleaning off his skin to notice Mingi staring, and hopes to god San can’t feel his heartbeat through his shirt. 

San loves affection. He is constantly hanging off of any one of them, just like Wooyoung does. It’s fine, he’s fine. 

Mingi relaxes as San’s tissue gradually turns pink with all the product. 

“Just try it again. Maybe you can blend it with the darker shade.”

“Ah, Ming, I’m tired. I’m ready to go to bed.” San’s lying. Mingi knows for a fact San’s lying. It’s in the way San’s lips are the same pink as always, maybe a little flushed from the chemicals, and he keeps bringing the tissue to his mouth like there is more to take off. 

“Do you want me to do it for you?” At this, San’s eyes snap to his in the mirror. He looks calculating, like he’s trying to figure out if Mingi will turn this into a game or if he’s being serious.

Truthfully, Mingi doesn’t know how to put on lipstick. But, it’s supposed to be kinda messy anyway, so he can’t do that bad of a job. Even so, he can tell San isn’t against the idea. 

“I doubt you could do better than me, but sure, why not. If you fuck up, you gotta take it off, too.” As if Mingi would be so averse to being that close to San’s face any longer than he has to. 

He’s dying for it. 

The anticipation in his stomach whirls with the butterflies, surely he’ll be an awkward, jumbled mess trying to hold San’s face steady while he concentrates on doing a good job and  _ not  _ thinking dirty things. 

So he backs up to let San readjust himself, and swipes Lady Killer off the counter to read the print on the tube. It’s matte, which he knows dries quickly, so he’s not sure why San would pick this particular lipstick if he knew it’d be more difficult to get a solid streak from. But it sure is pretty in the bottle. 

“Let’s just go sit on the bed. It’ll be easier so you don’t have to bend down.” 

Yeah. Uh huh. The bed. Not the couch. The  _ bed.  _

The second San turns his back and doesn’t have the aid of the mirror to see Mingi, Mingi allows himself a momentary crisis. He smashes the end of the tube into the middle of his forehead repeatedly and as quietly as possible (which is surprisingly, considering his skull is made of cement), and bites his lip so hard he’s sure he broke the skin. 

It’s chill. He’s chill. It’s just San and they’re alone and  _ this is what he wanted.  _ This is the opportunity he’s been waiting for. Their skinship is always borderline inappropriate and he’s had it up to here with the teasing way San will run a palm between his shoulder blades when he’s not paying attention or cup his face like he does with Wooyoung. 

Yeah, he’s fine. Earlier concerns and insecurities begone - he’s going to touch Choi San and it will be  _ fine.  _

San perches on his bed and sets his little plush dog Shiber in his lap, criss-cross-apple-sauce and looking no less sexy than he did drawing red all over his mouth. 

And Mingi goes to him like a moth to flame. 

He mirrors the way San’s sitting, careful not to jostle the bed too much. Up close, he can tell San was being truthful when he said he’s tired; if Mingi were to do a full face of makeup, he’d surely lull to sleep with the gentle movements and constant touching. His eyes are lidded and his cheeks are getting puffy with exhaustion creeping up on him.

But Mingi’s so selfish. He promises to take this moment and leave it here in these temporary sheets so San can rest. He deserves it, they all do. He really hopes his hands don’t shake.

Carefully, Mingi unscrews the top and tucks the open tube between where his inner thigh and calf meet. 

“You’re going to get lipstick everywhere if you do that.”

“Whatever. The company will pay for it.”

“Whose bed am I sleeping in if you ruin all these sheets?”

Mingi reaches out and holds San’s chin between his thumb and index finger gently, and then rolls his eyes at him. “Mine, duh.”

“You? Nah. I’d rather be with Yunho and Jongho.” But he smiles like a fox as he says it, so Mingi knows it’s a fib. 

“Shut up or I’ll put this on your teeth.” Mingi holds the wand threatening close to San’s pearly whites and smiles when he composes himself enough to let Mingi take the first swipe. 

Every time he’s seen San, or any of them, apply lipstick they always start on the bottom lip in the center. So that’s where Mingi goes. He presses until the applicator bleeds a little bit, and then he pushes the brush back and forth in small strokes across San’s bottom lip. He always hates when their stylists put gloss too close on the inside, so he avoids that and sweeps down to trace his natural lip lines. 

This isn’t as hard as San makes it seem so far. His mind is less focused on San being the recipient of his touch and more so on making sure he’s getting this right. 

When he sits back to check his progress, the vivid color pops against San’s tan skin and he knows immediately why San didn’t choose this one. He loves it though - these bright, bold colors look gorgeous on San’s lips even with no other makeup on to balance it out. 

Mingi can feel San’s eyes on him as he works. 

“Are you going to smear it?” 

“Do you want me to?” Mingi glances up and finds San looking at him under his lashes, still sleepy but with an edge to him now. Like he’s playful. 

“Go for it.” 

So, Mingi recaps the tube and thinks about the best way to do this. He’s got one chance to touch San how he’s been dreaming of touching him, so he wants to do this well, he wants the memory to imprint in his brain and appear at random. Remind him of what he could have.

“Okay.” 

Mingi’s fingers move from underneath San’s chin to rest against his throat, his index and thumb shifting so they’re at midjaw so he can hold a little more firmly and manipulate the angle of his face. He tilts San’s face upward and his other hand comes up to touch at the lipstick. It’s drying but still wet enough to create a thin paint smear, he’s sure of it. 

The edge of his thumb presses down on San’s lip and then it all comes rushing back to him, exactly what he’s doing. Just in time to watch his own hand sinfully part San’s lips and pull until color coats his thumb and smudges down San’s face. 

And oh, god that feels like  _ art.  _ The color fades at the end of the mark but it looks just like a painter’s brush expertly crafting a stain meant to stand out. 

He’s much closer than he’s supposed to be. 

Underneath Mingi’s fingers, San swallows. Mingi almost panics. Almost. He doesn’t even really have the time to catch himself, honestly. 

He closes the distance just as San gasps between them, and then he’s swallowing the noise down, drowning in soft lips made even softer by the silky product he put there. He knows he shouldn’t, every warning bell in his brain is clanging so loud he’ll get a headache soon enough, but he  _ can’t stop himself.  _

San responds just as eagerly, which could be the best and worst thing. He whimpers into the kiss and breaks it, backing away only to lick the edge of his lips. Mingi knows the lipstick has definitely transferred onto him and something about that...about the carnality of sharing lipstick through a kiss, it frees him from overthinking it. 

“Do it again.” San pants between them like he’s just run a mile when they’ve barely touched but Mingi probably is too, he doesn’t know, he can’t feel air in his lungs. So he takes the hand he used to smear San’s lipstick and brushes his cheekbone on the way to his hair, sure to leave his mark there too. His fingers tighten at the base of his scalp and drag him back in, intent on letting it all loose. He doesn’t care if San comes away from this knowing exactly what Mingi thinks about when they’re alone. 

He  _ wants  _ San to think about this, too.

The press of his lips isn’t hot enough, so he sucks San’s bottom lip between his teeth and teases him like that, gently scraping until San moans. 

And San, San just falls apart so beautifully in his hands. He kisses back like his life depends on it but he still lets Mingi lead, coaxes open his mouth with the promise of a tongue gently rolling across his lip. Mingi knows he kisses well, has been told by everyone he’s had that he’s the best, but nothing tops San’s responses to him. He keens and reaches for Mingi’s shirt the second Mingi’s tongue brushes his, knotting the fabric in his fists and pulling him closer. He tastes a bit like toothpaste and the makeup remover, but Mingi doesn’t mind because his mouth is warm and inviting, and San is clawing him at him like he’s turning him inside out. 

Mingi wants San in his lap. 

He tests the limits, dropping the hand holding his face to run along the length of his arm as they kiss, turning slow and hazy now that they’re exploring. He wants to do this right, wants the heat to dial up instead of start there.

San has different ideas. 

Mingi’s hand stops along the way to his hip, squeezing and caressing whenever San’s tongue glides down the roof of his mouth, but he doesn’t get the chance to lightly tug at him before San is casting Shiber aside and climbing into his lap, settling so his thighs bracket Mingi’s legs. 

“Hi,” He says, holding himself up above Mingi and just out of reach. The little devil has red absolutely everywhere, which means Mingi probably looks as fucked out as he does from just a little kissing. 

“Hey.” Mingi clasps his hands around San’s tiny waist and pulls him flush against him, utterly uncaring of staining his shirt. San’s collarbones are beautiful and he wants them in his mouth  _ now.  _

San’s thighs quiver over him as he lowers himself to settle properly, throwing his head back when Mingi’s teeth find a pulse point on his neck and bite there. He sucks as the high pitched breath punched out of San’s lungs only spurs him on, makes him hold on tighter and bite harder. When Mingi pulls back to investigate, there’s a mark blooming under a thin layer of stiletto red against his skin, and  _ fuck,  _ Mingi never imagined he’d get to be the reason San’s neck looked like this. 

“Come here-” And San dips to kiss him again, but holds himself just over Mingi’s lips, and  _ grins.  _

“Catch me then.” He whispers, giggling when Mingi lets out a frustrated growl. Now that he’s got San like this, he wants it all, he wants  _ everything.  _ Mingi surges up to meet him but San throws his head back, going up on his knees just so Mingi can’t reach him. 

“Get down here.” 

“No.”   
  


“One,” Mingi jostles him, just to see if it will change his mind. San holds firm. “ _ Two.”  _ Because he knows San hates being told what to do. “Don’t make me get to three.” 

“Wh- _ ah!”  _ Mingi grabs a fistful of San’s hair in one swift movement and pulls until they’re level again, forcing his head back down to Mingi. 

“Good?” Because he was a little rough there. Because San’s eyes are wide with shock and his breathing is labored and stutters on every inhale.

“Shut up.” San drops his full body weight until Mingi has no choice but to fall backwards into the bed, allowing San to cover him entirely as he kisses him again. This time he lets San take the reins, shoving his tongue into Mingi’s mouth and it’s so wet and messy, Mingi’s dying. He really reconsiders his previous notions of heaven and what it would feel like.

It must be this, with San in his lap and his tongue dancing with Mingi’s, and  _ god,  _ Mingi doesn’t even know where to put his hands. San jerks on him when Mingi’s cold fingertips slip underneath his shirt to press into the dimples on his lower back but he recovers quickly and grinds down against him. The burst of pleasure is just on the border of too much and not enough, to feel San’s hard cock pressing into his inner thigh. 

Mingi waits for San to slow down before thrusting up to meet him, startling a whine out of him so obscene it blocks out the rest of the noise in the room. Mingi doesn’t hear the air conditioner humming in the corner or the soft buzz from the vanity lights being on too long; he’s hyper focused on the noises San makes, rising and dropping his register in sounds he’s never heard from him before. He can’t keep up - one second, San is in his ear practically growling, and the next he’s mewling like a kitten. 

“H-hey, hol-” San pulls back until he towers over Mingi and then yanks his shirt upwards, running a smooth hand down his abs. Mingi moves beneath him, every time he rolls his hips San’s eyes flutter and he loves it, he craves being able to watch San shut down because of him. “Mingi,  _ fuck.” _

“Is it too much, baby?” Mingi almost reaches for San because he falls forward, both hands landing on Mingi’s pecs as his head hangs down. He can’t see his face, but the whimpering…he’d do anything to make him sound like that again.

“N-no,”

“Aw, can’t even get your words out anymore, can you?” Mingi squeezes a handful of San’s ass and his whole palm fits over one cheek, the perfect size. “S’cute.”

He’s not sure why San had seemed so intimidating before, he’s practically drooling over Mingi just from some heavy petting. 

“Can you look at me?” Mingi wants to see the mess he made. When San lifts his head, he looks like he does when he just gets off stage - stunning, a little crazed, his makeup is rubbed into his face so his entire mouth and chin are roused and spit-slick. His bottom lip has Mingi’s teeth marks in it. 

_ Holy shit.  _ If Mingi were any weaker, he’d have already cum in his pants. 

Luckily, he isn’t. 

“That’s right, look at me. Just like that.” Mingi picks up the pace, big hands gripping San’s waist and pinning him in place. He knows he could cum like this, he’s sure he could make San come like this, but he wants a little bit more. Just a little. 

“Mingi,  _ please.”  _

“Please what, baby? Use your words.” And, maybe Mingi’s kind of an ass about that, because the second San’s mouth drops open Mingi shoves two fingers into his mouth and demands, “ _ Suck.”  _

The noise San makes causes Mingi’s chest to clench, the deep-seated moan spilling out between Mingi’s fingers and his thick lips. He can’t help it anymore, he can’t bear the thought of not touching San. 

“Can I touch you, Sannie? Please let me touch you.” Mingi’s hips stutter when San takes his fingers deeper and runs his tongue along them, but he nods the second he realizes Mingi’s fingers are playing with the drawstrings of his sweats. “I need to hear you.”

“ _ Mmph!”  _ His tone is clearly that of annoyance, how is he supposed to answer definitively with Mingi’s fingers teasing the back of his throat? So San lifts himself up and grinds down hard, hips circling over Mingi’s cock so delightfully Mingi can’t help but moan back. San smiles around his fingers. 

Mingi yanks at the tied strings until they come undone, uncoordinated with San licking his fingers on one hand while the other works to get into his pants. Mingi doesn’t bother rubbing his palm over him, just dips into his briefs and drags his cock out. He needs to get San’s pants a little lower than this, but he needs both hands for that, so reluctantly he begins to pull back from San’s mouth. Who doesn’t seem to want to let go. 

“No!” He bites down gently on Mingi’s second knuckle, pouting at him the best he can looking that sinful. Sweat glistens at his forehead and his eyes are watery, and god, Mingi thinks he hung the fucking moon and stars in the sky with how pretty he is. 

“I’ll put them back in a second, let me take care of you, sweetheart.” He makes sure to lower his voice and speak softly to reassure San, which seems to do the trick. He’s still pouting as he releases his grip on Mingi’s fingers, and Mingi has half a mind to just keep them there and try to work his pants down without it. Damn his hand, whatever.

“You’re so hot.” San sighs, drawing patterns on Mingi’s chest as he lifts up to let Mingi tug his pants down. He flicks a nipple just to get Mingi to flinch, giggling cutely when Mingi snaps his waistband in retaliation. 

San’s dick is a whole different kind of beautiful. It stands with a heavy curve, not too big but not too small, a bit darker than the rest of him, exactly what Mingi always imagined when he thought of San this way. His mouth waters just looking at it. 

San keens when Mingi carefully rolls his thumb across the head, gathering a small amount of precum to rub into the tip. “You’re being so good for me, little lamb.” San smirks at the name but it’s quickly replaced with a look of bliss as Mingi’s hand still covered in San’s saliva circles the folds underneath the head. 

“Jesus,” San shudders as Mingi lauves his tongue across his own palm and pumps his fist over San’s cock while the thumb of his other hand massages his tip. “What the fuck, Wooyoung wasn’t kidding.”

Oh, Mingi didn’t realize Wooyoung blabbed about the one and only time he’d hooked up with another member. A hotel room, much like this, on their first ever overseas tour. 

Nice. Seems he got positive reviews.

“Mingi,” San whines, slowly beginning to ride him in time with Mingi’s movements, “ _ Mingi-”  _

“Shhh shh, don’t get upset. Tell me.” Mingi watches San’s face carefully, obsessed with the tears forming along San’s eyelashes. He tries to take a mental snapshot, to keep this framed in the forefront of his mind - the moments he made Choi San lose himself in front of him. 

“Faster, please!” And what is Mingi supposed to do, say no? It’s hard to focus with San grinding on him, trying so hard to sync up and somehow just missing each other’s timing. That just makes it sloppier, the rush to finish each other off. 

The pleasure tenfolds when San leans over him and grasps both of his arms, nails digging into the skin for a grip. He’s shaking and Mingi doesn’t think it’s from holding himself up so long, but he wants to help anyway. 

“Hang on to me.” He wraps one arm around San’s waist and sits up, readjusting him so San’s facing him. It gives him access to his bruised to hell neck again and he can’t help it, he wants to make those marks last for weeks and as much as this new angle would give him a pretty sight, he wants his mouth busy too.

“What the fuck, holy shit, you’re insane-” San babbles in his ear as Mingi kisses his neck, alternating between nips and sucking at the skin. San’s arms drape over his neck as he lets Mingi work him out, boneless and spent but still wound so tight. “I’m gonna cum, Mingi-”

“Come for me then, little lamb.” Mingi had no idea he could talk like this, but he enjoys it all the same. San trembles in his hold and Mingi finally glances down, which proves to be a mistake, because he’s quickly entranced by the way San’s dick slides in and out of his fist, a little dry…

“What the  _ fuck!”  _ San collapses against him as a string of Mingi’s saliva hits the tip of his dick and pools over his fingers, sticky and providing a much smoother glide. His hips stutter against Mingi’s hold as he jerks him, San’s hot breath right in Mingi’s ear, and then he’s coming. Hot liquid dribbles down Mingi’s hands and he bites back his own moan using San’s shoulder, stroking him through it. 

The urge to scoop up San’s cum with his fingers and shove it into his mouth is intense, but his own orgasm is begging to be released. Now that San’s taken care of, panting uselessly in his lap, Mingi’s closer than he realized. It may only take a few pumps of his own hand and his cock is aching for attention, so he wipes the cum and spit on his own stomach and then carefully rolls San into the bed. 

San’s eyes are closed as he pants, sweaty hair fluffed out across the pillows and his mouth is stained so red from that lipstick and all of the abuse. 

“Sannie, baby, can you hear me?” Mingi gets up on his knees and shucks down his pants as far as they can go, cool air immediately attacking his flushed cock. 

“Mmph-” San’s eyes barely open as he notices Mingi beside him, not yet touching himself, one hand pulling his shirt to his mouth so it doesn’t get in his way. “How are you so hot?” 

Mingi chuckles at his slurring, takes the time to lean over and gently caress his cheek. 

“Wait, I wanna do that.” San attempts to sit up and reach for him, but Mingi pushes him back down before he gets close. Another night. For now, he wants to quell the fire inside of him and crawl in next to San.

“Not now, love. You’ve done enough tonight.”

“Can you at least cum on my face then?” Mingi chokes on air, a strong surge of blood pushing through his cock makes him nearly scream. The thought of San’s beautiful face covered not only in faded lipstick and faint tears but also pearly drops of Mingi’s cum...holy shit, he wants that so bad.

“Are you sure?” 

“Want you to.” San slaps at Mingi’s inner thigh and the touch buzzes pleasantly, sending a little zing right up Mingi’s spine. What San wants, San gets. 

He positions himself closer to San’s face and wraps a warm hand around his cock, familiar enough with his own touch to know he doesn’t have to do much more work than this. Not with San blinking up at him, a lazy, catlike grin grazing his wrecked face as he holds on to Mingi’s thigh. 

Mingi barely gets four thrusts into his own fist before he tells San to close his eyes. San flinches at the first hit, but then he opens his mouth and relaxes his face, and fuck if Mingi could come twice right this second just to keep him like this. So pretty, coated in Mingi’s cum, his tongue out like he’s waiting for snowflakes. 

It’s both adorable and filthy at the same time, much like San always is. The best of both worlds. 

By the time the last drops land, San is licking his own lips and Mingi is waiting to die. He’s sure his heart will stop beating, just completely give out at the picture before him. San’s gorgeous laid all out in these white sheets, marked and sated and Mingi...Mingi always wants this. For him to look so serene.

“You’re unfairly beautiful, you know.” Mingi groans, dropping alongside San. Their arms brush and Mingi finds that normally sweat freaks him out after all is said and done, but the cooling, damp skin against his own grounds him. 

“So are you.” San sighs and starts trying to clean himself off, so Mingi props himself up on his elbow and uses his shirt, promising to go get a warm towel the second he regains his muscles back. 

And when San’s eyes are safe to open, he looks up at Mingi and the butterflies flap violently in Mingi’s stomach again. Truly, no one in this world is like Choi San. 

“I’m sleepy, can you clean up, please?” San stretches like a cat, yawning and rolling until he snuggles up against Mingi’s chest. He’s warm and smells like this bed and his shampoo, lavender and clean linen, and Mingi buries his nose in his hair and breathes in like he’ll never get to again. San wraps around him like a koala, pulling him so close, his soft cock pressing into the v of Mingi’s hip. 

“I can’t move if you trap me here.”

“Okay, clean me tomorrow in the shower, then.” San nuzzles his face into Mingi’s chest and kisses his sternum. “I wanna see what you can really do with these hips.” And for emphasis, he grinds into him once more, just to get a sharp gasp out of Mingi. 

God, what a fucking devil. 

“You’re a heathen.” Mingi kisses the top of his head and runs a hand down his back, so broad at the shoulders and so tapered the lower he goes. He thinks it’s lulling San into sleep, gentle massaging around the sore spots he carries in his neck and back that don’t get much attention. Wouldn’t mind just laying here like this for ages, working out all the kinks in his back until San melts into him. He’s almost positive the longer he rubs in different patterns, the more sleep drags them both under. 

Until San says, “God, I can’t wait for you to rail me in the morning.” 

“Go to bed, San.” 

San hums and drifts off to sleep, either blatantly ignoring or blissfully unaware of Mingi's dick filling back up against his thigh. He wills it to go down, busying himself with playing with San's hair and feeling the steady heartbeat syncing up with his own. Just before he falls into sleep himself, the name of that lipstick dances at the edges of his consciousness, and he imagines what it'd be like to watch San color his lips with it onstage. Tomorrow, he will politely suggest using that one, if anything, just for the memory of carefully brushing it across San's lips and getting to kiss it all off. He touches his own lip, sure that the remnants of red stain his own mouth, and smiles into San's hair. 

**Author's Note:**

> if my future s/o doesn't attack me like this for putting on lipstick i don't want it
> 
> come say hi on twitter, @yoontoagoblin!!


End file.
